


Mates for Life

by JohnlockTheDoctor



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Ainmhithe, Alternate Universe, Animal Transformation, Irish, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Mating, Smut, wolfs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-13 00:06:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2129541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnlockTheDoctor/pseuds/JohnlockTheDoctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's an ainmhithe. He can transform into a wolf and finds out, so can Sherlock. Things get heated once they both transform.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mates for Life

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from an anon on Tumblr:  
> [I know you're busy but can you do an AU prompt where Sherlock and John can like turn into a different animal or something really random like that and maybe smut??]

It was only 1% of the world. It was rare. _Really_ rare, but I was one of them. It happened when I was a child. I was just playing out in my front garden, when a vicious, hungry one lunged at me. It pounced at me and sunk it’s teeth into my shoulder. My dad managed to wrestle it off me. It killed him. Savaged his face whilst I watched. I still have the scar on my shoulder. The pain in my heart. I thought the army would help the aggression it bought. I didn’t get aggressive much, it was just when I was hungry or provoked. That’s when they attacked. I’d never killed anyone. I never would, not if I could help it. They soon found out. One of my Generals walked in on me changing. I had to at least once a week. It kept me sane. _Us_ sane. But I got sent home. I was deemed _'dangerous'_ by the British army and was sent back to England. I wasn’t harmful like people thought. I was just unlucky as a child. I had to live with this all my life. All because I was an _ainmhithe._

Ainmhithe meant _'animal'_ in Irish. It derived from there. The species. No one knows exactly how, but it spread. Not easily, as many were shot or killed as they were pretty dangerous when not given what they want. When I say hungry, I literally meant just regular food. No flesh or organs or anything gruesome. You just had to make sure you’re fully satisfied before changing or you could develop a quick and large appetite when you reach your other form. Some of us looked scary. Well, so I’ve seen from pictures. I’d never actually met another one of us, not including the one that bit me. I was one of the smaller ones. I looked slightly less intimidating. When changed, I was covered in thick fur which was a dirty blonde in colour. Almost the same colour as my hair in human form, though the ainmhithe qualities seemed to make it seem slightly darker. I had a large tail that constantly wagged and knocked things over and a wet nose. Two pointed ears on the top of my head and an abnormally large tongue. Claws instead of fingernails and paws instead of palms. I was practically a large dog. Or as people sometimes called us, one of the Wolf Pack.

 

I’d just shot a man. I’d killed a man for Sherlock Holmes. I barely knew him. I’d only known him a day and I’d killed someone for him. We walked up the stairs to 221B and Sherlock muttered, _“ainmhithe”._ Most people pronounced it wrong. It was Irish after all, but the word rolled off Sherlock’s tongue as if he was fluent in the language. Well, he probably was. “What?”, I said, it coming out shakier then intended. “You’re an ainmhithe”, he said a bit louder and I sat down in my chair, frowning. “but.. h-how? How did you know?”. Sherlock sat down in his chair opposite me and inhaled loudly through his nose, “I can smell it”. I took a deep breath in and the smell hit me like a tonne of bricks. How had I not noticed? It was sort of like a musky smell mixed with the constant pheromones our species gave off. He was one too. “How.. did it happen?”, I said quietly. Sherlock’s eyes finally snapped away from mine as he looked at the floor, “it’s a long story”. I nodded, “I have time”. Sherlock rolled his eyes and nodded, “okay then”.

"I was on drugs. I needed more. I was desperate. I was only 17. I went to meet someone, my, supplier. We met in this dark alley and that’s when it happened. Two of them were on me. One bit my neck whilst the other was chewing at my arm. That’s how I met Lestrade. He shot them. He saved my life. He got me off drugs, got me clean and got me a job. He’s a nice bloke. He took me straight to Barts and they tried to stop it spreading into my bloodstream but it was too late. I was one of them. They were all a bit scared at first but I showed them I wasn’t dangerous. People don’t get it, they think we’re dangerous-“, John interrupted, “-but we’re not”. Sherlock nodded, “the only other ainmhithe I met was dead. He wasn’t in form though. It was on a case. You’re the only living one I’ve met”. John smiled slightly, “I’ve never met one either”. Sherlock pressed his palms together under his chin, “change. I wanna see”. John shook his head, _“no._ No way. I don’t want to put you in danger”. Sherlock scowled, “I can handle you if anything was to happen! You’ll probably only be a small wolf anyway. But nothing is going to happen. You said yourself. You’re not dangerous”. I nodded, “but I’ll have to get..”. Sherlock huffed a laugh, “stay in your clothes if you want. But they’ll just get ripped in the process of changing and you’ll end up being naked once you change back”. I scowled and stood up and took an orange from the fruit bowl. I’m surprised it even had anything in it. Sherlock always seemed to be experimenting on fruit. Sherlock held out his hands and I threw it to him, getting another one for myself. We’d just had Chinese so we should be full enough, but just to make sure. 

Sherlock watched. _Stared._ He hadn’t taken his eyes off me since we got in. I slowly started to unbutton my shirt and Sherlock continued to stare. “Sherlock, quit.. looking at me like that”. Sherlock huffed a laugh but didn’t look away. I undressed slowly, before crouching down away from the coffee table, which was probably for the best. Better try not to break it. “I wanna change too”, Sherlock said quietly, still watching me. I raised my eyebrows, “will.. we be.. safe around each other?”. He nodded, “we’re friends.. aren’t we?”. I nodded and Sherlock smiled, “I won’t turn straight away”. I closed my eyes and thought. _Hard._ That’s all you needed to do. Concentrate. You barely feel it when it happens. There’s a lot of changes that take place but it all happens so quickly that nothing is barely felt. It feels good though. It almost feels magical.

I opened my eyes and scanned the room. Sherlock was standing a few metres away, staring. I sat down, waiting for him to make the first move. He slowly walked towards me and I sat there, not moving. He seemed slightly nervous. He put a hand up in front of my nose and I nuzzled against it. A small smile played on his lips and he softly ran a hand down my face. I leant forward and licked his cheek, making him scowl in disgust, _“John!_ That is disgusting!”. He couldn’t help but laugh though. “You’re small for an ainmhithe. Smaller then I thought. Though I guess that comes from your characteristics as a human”. I swatted him with my paw, making him step back suddenly but he just grinned, walking round me, inspecting me. He scratched behind my ears and I couldn’t stop my tail from wagging manically. It felt good. _Really_ good. He laughed and I nuzzled against his hand for more. He just shook his head and touched my wet nose with his finger, “I’m going to change now”. I barked as quietly as I could, hoping Mrs Hudson wouldn’t come up. Sherlock knew, of course what I was thinking, “Mrs Hudson knows, she’s used to it”. 

Sherlock stripped off and I watched him. I couldn’t help it. He had an absolutely stunning body. He was skinnier than I originally thought and wasn’t particularly hairy. Probably because it all seemed to grow on the top of his head. His cock was long. Longer than mine though slightly thinner, almost mimicking his body size. He caught my eye before he crouched down and squeezed his eyes shut. It all happened so fast if I blinked I would have missed it. He’d changed and he looked _so_ beautiful. 

His fur was jet black and his eyes shone green. He was on the other side of the room and I could still see them. He walked towards me slowly and I stood up on my four legs, walking closer to him too. Everything he said I could read in his eyes. _Is this okay? Do you feel safe? Don’t be afraid._ He leant forward and nuzzled his face to mine, showing me everything was in fact okay. It was perfectly fine. I gave his jaw a soft bite and before I could even register the glint of mischief in his eye, he’d pounced on me. He wasn’t causing a threat. He was.. _playing._ I growled playfully and turned him over so I was on top and bit his ear. He yelped loudly and turned me over again, his wagging tail knocking a whole shelf of books off the bookcase. “Boys! Play nice!”, Mrs Hudson’s called up and I barked loudly. I ran out of Sherlock’s grip and jumped over the sofa, running round behind his chair. Sherlock jumped on top of the table, whatever his feet didn’t knock off, his tail did. The coffee mugs, the books, the phones and everything else we had on there was now scattered all over the floor. He jumped down and caught my tail between his teeth. Now it was my time to yelp as I wriggled out of his grasp and ran into the kitchen. He followed, chasing me round the counter and back into the living room, where he pounced on me and pinned me to the floor. He was faster then me and stronger then me so it was easy for him. I hadn’t had this much exercise, or fun for that matter, _ever._ I’d always changed alone. I’d never ventured outside or even ran on these legs. I was always alone, locked in my room. We were both panting loudly as we were out of breath, Sherlock standing over me, paws on my chest. He darted his tongue out and licked just below my ear. I looked into his eyes and it looked like he was laughing. _Smiling._ He was happy. 

He bit my ear one last time before getting off me and changing back to his original self. I soon followed, and we both lay there on the floor, naked, panting and out of breath. Sherlock recovered first and stood up, wandering over to me. He didn’t seem at all embarrassed of his nudity. He helped me up and slammed me up against the door and I yelped loudly, this time, human sounds coming from my mouth. His teeth sank into my neck and I cried out, “Sherlock! _God,_ you’ve changed back! Don’t bite me!”. A soft growl escaped his lips and then an ever so quiet moan. I looked down. He was hard. He ground his hips into mine and I too, was instantly hard. “Can’t help it, wolf instincts, you taste.. good”, he managed to mumble out, moaning between each bite he sunk into my neck. I cried out loudly, though I wasn’t scared. I trusted him. I wanted him. I _needed_ him.

He slammed me against the wall again and I groaned, “don’t you dare move”. He quickly darted off to his bedroom and I gave my erection a few strokes before he came back, lube in hand. “Oh god”, I mumbled and he grabbed my face in his hands, “say no now if you don’t want this, thought I suspect you do due to the most distracting, spontaneous hard ons you seem to get when around me”. I let out a soft laugh and nodded, “go Sherlock.. just, please. Please just do it”. He grabbed my arse in both hands and lifted me up, holding me up against the wall. He was incredibly strong for someone with that much lack of body muscle. He coated one hands fingers in lube whilst the other continued to hold me up and he pushed his index finger past the ring of muscle. I moaned loudly, rocking my hips, begging for friction. He pumped one finger, then two, then even managed three, every so often nudging my prostate and making me cry out his name. Mrs Hudson was probably having a bloody heart attack hearing the moans and cries escaping my lips.

He removed his fingers and dripped the liquid onto his cock. It was flushed pink and the veins stood out so prominently due to the lack of friction it was getting. He pushed into me with no warning and I moaned loudly, grabbing a handful of hair in both of my hands. He thrust into me, _hard._ His animalistic characteristics coming out as he got more frantic. I now knew why we were called ainmhithe. We really were animals. We _craved_ each other. Not only to mate or to bond with. To protect each other. To feel loved. To play. To laugh. To admire and to communicate. I loved him. I really did. 

He pulled my face towards his and crashed his lips to mine. We kissed hungrily, our teeth crashing together, tongues entwined, occasional bite marks in bottom lips and giving every bit of passion I could muster up. It was heavenly. He pulled back and went back to biting my neck, my shoulders and my nipples. They were sensitive. _So_ sensitive, which caused shocks of pleasure to shoot through my body every time his teeth clasped around one of the hard nubs. “God! _Ah!_ Sherlock!”, I cried out over and over again. I was close. So close. “Touch me Sherlock! Now! _Please!_ Sherlock I need your touch, I’m so nearly there”, I managed to say, the words tumbling out of my mouth clumsily. The hand cupping my cheek tugged at my leaking cock. Once. Twice. Three times and I was there. I shouted his name, my nails digging into his back as I came all over his chest and my own stomach. He slammed into me roughly a few more times before he moaned, loudly. His back arched and he grabbed hold of me tightly, struggling to hold me up as his orgasm washed over him. He pulled me to the floor and we sat there, out of breath for the second time that evening. “Fuck”, I mumbled out and he laughed softly, pulling me closer so I could rest my head on his shoulder. “Boys! I got you some food! You’ll need it, you’ve used up all your energy! I’ll be downstairs if you need me!”, Mrs Hudson said, on the other side of the door, the same one we were leaning against, panting, naked and covered in each others release. Sherlock and I looked at each other and a soft giggle escaped our lips, soon turning into grins and full on laughter. “We should do that more often”, I said softly, leaning up and giving him a soft peck on his lips. Sherlock smiled, cupping my cheek. “We should eat. I wanna explore some more”. I laughed softly, “you need some rest Sherlock”. He frowned, “I’d rather just stay with you”. I smiled, “I need some sleep too. I’ll come with you? If you want that?”. Sherlock nodded once and I helped him up off the floor, “you look beautiful.. in your ainmhithe form”, he said quietly, so quietly, as if he was embarrassed to say it. “Your fur it’s.. unique”. I pressed a kiss to his forehead and laid down beside him in his bed, “you’re beautiful in both forms Sherlock. Now sleep”. He pulled me against his body, holding me tight in my arms. _"Codladh go maith le mo ghrá",_ he whispered softly. Of course he was fluent. I didn’t get to ask him what it meant as he was already asleep. Knackered and out stone cold. But I’d ask him in the morning. I’d ask him when I woke up in his arms.

 

It meant, _‘sleep well my love’,_ in the language of their species. Irish. In the language of what finally brought them this intimacy. The language that made the two of them who they were today, though both of them hated what they were at first, they’d found each other and they were happy. They loved each other for who they were. They were special. They were mates. 

_Mates for life._


End file.
